Awaken - Short "pilot" Fantasy Story

Awaken

by ~Epona142

A soft whicker broke through her drowsy consciousness. Opening her eyes, she took a moment to bring the wooden roof of her small shelter into focus.

A more impatient snort this time, and a smile quirked the corner of one side of her mouth and she sat up, pushing one hand through a tangled mess of dark hair. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, then lifted herself from the sleeping mat and pushed aside the deer hide covering the hut's entrance.

The golden creature standing outside ruffled his wings and nickered again in greeting. She smiled and touched his silken nose gently before returning to the hut and reappearing with a wooden vessel filled with wild grains.

Solid hooves approached and the nose was thrust into the grain. Contented chewing sounds filled the air. She set down the bowl and let him eat, running her fingers through his satin coat, before stepping back and looking at him in full.

He shifted on his four hooves, dished muzzle still buried in his feed. A thick white mane lay across each side of his neck and down onto his back, between the tightly folded and softly furred wings. Powerful hindquarters ended in a long, thin tail, tasseled with silken white hair at the end, much like a lion's, so unlike a true horse's.

But this wasn't a true horse. Born of a horse, born of magic, born of chance, but not a horse. The woman touched his golden palomino coat again and took a moment to remember that night once more.

It had to be her favorite mare of course. She had two horses on her little farm; a light mare for the chase (hunting), and a heavier draft mare for plowing. Two more horses than most farms had. Her hunting mare had managed to get loose one late spring night and had returned to the farm days later. Goodness only knows what kind of stallion she'd met up with, but she'd met with one sure enough, and that became obvious in late winter.

The foal came late at night, delivered in their sparse shelter, in raked dirt that she had taken the time to spread out. Straw was too expensive, this was the best the woman could offer.

It wasn't until the foal scrambled to its hooves before the woman realized that something was amiss. A shocked gasp slipped through her lips and her heart sunk as she saw the thin whip like tail, the fragile legs, and most importantly, the delicate wings held tightly to its sides. His sides; a bright golden colt. A winged colt.

No one knew why or how these winged horses were born. They could be born of any mare, any time. There was no rhyme or reason to it. They were rare, perhaps one or two born a year. Most simply considered it part of this land's magic.

The Empire considered them their property.

Any winged colts that were born ended up in the Empire's hands. The Empire granted the farm that produced one a year's break from the heavy strain of taxes. This marvelous gift meant that poorer farms handed them over quite gladly and without a fuss.

Rarely, a richer merchant would try to refuse to turn over their foal. Strangely, family members would begin to disappear, or have accidents. They were never proved to be connected, but everyone knew the Empire was behind it.

And always, soon enough, the winged foal would be "gifted" to the Empire.

The Empire always got what it wanted.

The woman's fingers worked through the tangles in the mane as she continues to think about the past.

She knew from the start that she would never give the colt up. Like many farmers, she was taxed to the extreme, in debt to the Empire indefinitely, never able to get out from under them. The break from taxes would have been a wonderful boon. But her anger went deeper; she remembered vividly her beloved husband's death. Killed in a war stirred up by the Empire in a conquest to gain control of even more land. A war fueled by the strength of the poor working man, for why should the Empire sacrifice their best soldiers when they can draft the farmers?

From that day forward, the woman bore a grudge against the Empire. To consign this golden colt to their clutches made her feel nauseated.

The Empire used the winged horses in their war-mongering. They were assigned riders, trained, and spent their lives enforcing the Empire's harsh laws. Most lost their short lives in some battle or other. A waste of a miracle.

No, this would not be the fate for her colt.

The woman hid him as long as she could; there were spies everywhere, even in your farm workers. Your friends, companions, the store owner in town, any of them could be a spy.

The winged horse lifted his satin muzzle and nudged the woman with great affection, interrupting her train of thought before she could reflect once more on their daring escape in the middle of a cold night.

She smiled and tucked his delicate head into her arms and kissed his forehead. Perhaps they would go for a ride this day. He needed the exercise. And perhaps, one day soon, he would be ready to spread those magnificent wings of his, and take to the sky, and take her with him...

- Want to read more about these characters? Comment and let me know!